


First Aid

by chshrkitten



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: (you know normal couple things), Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, mindreading, new relationships, no attempt was made at portraying accurate medical care because ~magic~, set early in the Shard of Ice era, the 2 things these idiots have in common are being beautiful and being badly socialized
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28252320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chshrkitten/pseuds/chshrkitten
Summary: Geralt comes home injured from a hunt. Yennefer can help, even if she doesn't totally have a script for offering help and he doesn't totally have a script for accepting it.(Can I offer you a classic hurt/comfort scenario in these trying times?)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	First Aid

"Witcher healing--"

"And your witcher healing will do you so much good if your wound closes over with bits of gravel and dirt still embedded in your skin, won't it?" Yennefer’s voice didn't soften, but her eyes, never leaving him, did. "Don't be foolish, Geralt. Let me help." 

Geralt nodded. It _wasn't_ necessary, but arguing with Yennefer never did him any good even in arguments where he could honestly say he wanted to win. He sank back down onto the bed, the worn springs creaking beneath his graceless weight. 

Yennefer stood between his splayed legs, leaning over him as she unbuttoned his shirt. She pulled the ruined cloth away from where it stuck to his wound with more gingerness than he would have expected, though Geralt couldn't help thinking it was one more thing he could have done on his own. 

"But you'd only lose more blood twisting around to do it." she answered absently. Another of the little quirks he'd discovered in her, the way she answered his thoughts as easily as his words. When she wanted to answer, anyway. 

He didn't argue. Her eyes were narrowed, trained on the gash the creature had torn down his right shoulder; not life-threateningly deep, but still a nasty wound with ragged edges, messy from where he'd hit the forest floor face first directly after receiving it. It was some comfort that he'd managed to kill the beast, anyway. 

Yennefer muttered something in the language of magic under her breath, too fast for him to follow while distracted, and circled a hand over his wound to complete the spell. 

Geralt felt a slight tug of pressure within the circle her hand had scribed over him. Then his vision went _white_ with pain. Even though he knew it was just the wound being purified, he couldn't help releasing a pathetic little cry through his teeth just as the surge of magic began to recede. 

"Shit." Yennefer hissed under her breath, the swear word sounding strange in her voice and her fingers still fluttering over his wound, even though the spell was obviously completed. 

(Or at least he fucking hoped it was. Geralt had dealt with infected wounds before, and frankly given the choice between that and another round of _that_ , he might need to reevaluate--)

"I can hear your whining, you know." she snapped, and then sighed. "That's not what I meant to... Just lie still.”

He did. 

She took the bandages she'd apparently gotten out of his pack and finished covering the wound without a word. Her soft hands were cool against his skin. She wrapped the bandages neatly, but didn't bother truly dressing the wound, which he appreciated. It would have been a waste, since they both knew the injury would be almost gone in a few hours regardless. With it cleaned and the ragged edges evened out by her spell, it probably wouldn't even scar. 

When Yennefer was done, she lingered, leaning over him and resting a hand on his good shoulder, her thumb rubbing circles into his skin. For a moment Geralt was puzzled, before he realized, belatedly, that she was comforting him. Huh. 

Before he could think it through long enough for her to pick up on the thought, Geralt leaned up and hooked his good arm around Yennefer's waist, pulling her suddenly down to fall beside him. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and a fall of black hair spilled across his chest and arm. 

"Hey." she snapped, though she simultaneously curled closer, moving to tuck her head under his chin. "Do not manhandle me, Geralt."

He hummed an acknowledgement. She sighed. 

Her heartbeat was slightly elevated, but slowing now. Her breath was steady against his throat, and her perfume a familiar scent. Geralt felt his own tension easing. 

She tapped her fingers lightly against his bandaged pec. "I haven't used that spell in a while." she said abruptly, in a tone that wasn't quite apologetic, but could have been. "I forgot how it felt."

"I figured." 

"Well, you don't have to--" 

"Thank you, Yen." he said softly, closing his eyes to let her heartbeat and the smell of her hair fill his senses. "It’s nice having someone else to patch me up." 

"Well, let's not make a habit of you needing it." She said into his shoulder.

"I’m sorry. I must have forgotten to mention what I do for a living."

"Don't be obtuse, you know what I meant..." Her voice was faraway, as if, for once, she was nearing sleep before him. "’M not your wife, I won’t nag you like one. Only be _careful_ out there." 

"Yen, it doesn't matter anyway." he argued, despite not feeling entirely sure what he was arguing against. "I'm hard to kill."

“You might aim for a little more than not dying.” she returned. “We’ve talked about this. It _does_ matter.”

Unsure how to respond to that, Geralt breathed out a laugh that he knew was the wrong response to the situation as soon as it left his lips. 

“It matters to me.” She answered, not seeming to take offense. “Among other reasons."

Geralt was silent for a moment. In the corner of his eye, the candle on Yennefer’s dressing table wavered and spat. “Yen.” He said at last, and waited till he was sure he was listening. “I’m careful. I’ll be careful.”

“Well, good.” She said, and sighed. Her breath was warm against his throat, lips almost brushing his jugular. “Go to sleep. I’ll blow out the candles in a minute.”

**Author's Note:**

> I shouldn’t have ended it that way because now I’m a little worried about Yenna accidentally falling asleep and letting the candles start a house fire. But since I am the author, I guess I can say that she definitively did extricate herself from her boyfriend’s very comfortable arms for just long enough to extinguish any open flames.
> 
> Let me know what you thought?


End file.
